


you're blood, and i'm just skin and flesh

by kuro49



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Bottom Hercules Hansen, Canon Compliant, M/M, Sibling Incest, Underage Sex, random not random bar hook-up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:50:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2290889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/kuro49
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott is who he has, giving him what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're blood, and i'm just skin and flesh

**Author's Note:**

> Or the two of them fuck each other for two very different reason, but hey, at least they fuck each other. (My Scott-situation has become unmanageable once more, also I don’t get Internet at my place until the weekend, so have some sad trash porn.)

Hercules Hansen never goes as far inland as he can, just far enough to meet him halfway. In another bar that’s just busy enough to have the bartender making you your drinks without once looking at your face, he takes a seat and orders a beer. _Anything on tap_ , doesn’t matter which brand he is handed, just that it has to be cold enough for the condensation to hide his clammy palms. After all, he only needs to hold on until he finds him in the evening crowd.

Here, where no one is looking for a Jaeger pilot like himself.

Herc clutches his hands around the glass, takes a sip, and wishes the bitterness wouldn’t go down so smooth. Wishes for a great deal of things that doesn’t include Chuck keeping his mouth shut when his father makes to leave on nights like these, even when his eyes are tracking him as he crosses the room to the door.

And Herc really doesn’t know what he’d rather prefer.

“Hey there, stranger.”

Here, he doesn’t need to look around for that voice to find him.

“Scotty.”

There’s no warning when Scott’s hand lands against the small of his back. Herc doesn’t have to like it but that matters very little when the exhale that escapes between his teeth is all relief. The only contact still grounding him to a world that isn’t Scott Hansen, in the flesh, is the cold of the glass biting into his fingertips.

He doesn’t let himself lean back, but every pull of air being drawn into his lungs gets a little easier than the previous one. Scott takes the glass from him and steals a sip, grimaces at the watered-down excuse for beer and lets him finish off the rest.

It takes him ten gulps, and then there’s the empty glass.

There’s also Scott giving him an out, and that, that’s what he’s been waiting for.

Needs are not wants, that Scott Hansen understands. Because Scott knows his brother, he also knows that this is how Herc keeps himself going. That stripping him down until it is just the feeling of his knees digging into the rough white sheets or the flex of his fingers as he wraps them tighter around the headboard. That it all helps when it comes to fitting his head into someone else’s mind.

The reduction takes out the sharp edges until his brother is not running himself bloodied to save the world. But at what cost? Scott simply thinks it’s self-destructive either way.

But Herc doesn’t need Scott to agree with his methods to need this from him.

(Scott’s also not that strong as to say _no_ to something he’s wanted for so, so long.)

This is where they are different.

The room is not so bad, and Herc understands that tonight, Scott is looking for something cruel in return, too. Something to twist the knife in that while he might just be what he needs, but never what he wants, not in this life time or the next, not while they are brothers, not while this is what it takes.

So he tilts his head up all on his own, mouth opening beneath his younger brother’s in an apology they don’t know how to say. And there’s no pleading this time around when he wraps his arms around his neck.

He is not his vice, and the sweep of his tongue is not asking for permission of any kind. It is seeking for a whole other thing that tastes a lot like blood. Herc bites down on the swell of Scott’s bottom lip just as he backs him into the wall. His shoulders take the brunt of it and it might have been years since their last drift. Still, it feels a whole lot like coming home to see the house burnt to its foundation.

Herc can’t have that.

“Bed’s right there, Scotty, let’s not pretend you’re a gentleman here.”

It’s a cheap shot, at best, given what Scott wants to be for him. But Scott gives him this. He gives him plenty, and it’s not because he’s a good person, it’s because he owes him this.

“Then what’re you waitin’ for, Herc?” He pulls away, lets his brother’s fingertips drag across his skin, and when he smiles, it’s all teeth with his next words. “I’m not about to ask you for your hand.”

Herc pulls his shirt over his head. Scott doesn’t hide the way his eyes trail across his throat, then lower still to find the new addition of drive suit scars.

“Charlie’s fifth kill.” He murmurs as he traces the circuitry burns that run from Herc’s sides horizontally to his abdomen. It’s not the silvery lines that they heal into, not yet anyway, it is still bright pink and tender where he runs his fingers across them.

“Don’t let the sprog hear you call him that.”

Scott smiles, and there’s no teeth in this one. “Right, it’s Chuck now.”

He owes him plenty, and this is just one other thing on that list.

When Scott shoves, Herc falls, hitting the bed on his back and closing his eyes to the lights as Scott’s hand reaches for his belt. He doesn’t count his breathing like usual, just lets the burn of each breath keep him afloat.

And with Scott here, right above him, Hercules remembers the two of them younger, dumber, but just as damaging when it’s just the two of them left to their own device. Where the friction of Scott rubbing down against his own erection has him going backwards and into his teenage years. Scott sitting sprawled across his lap. His hands wrapping around them both, slicked by just the spit from how his kid brother has just been down on his knees, mouth stretched wide, pushing his thighs further apart like he is gagging for more.

There isn’t just a considerable amount of guilt when he comes with Scott’s name bitten into broken pieces on his tongue.

Barely sixteen, and Scott can already see just that. It’s not why he continues, grinning as he does, calling him ' _Le_ when he’s got his brother’s hand jerking him off. But it is a considerable part of why he does it at all, coming apart, and taking that one reluctant kiss from Herc's mouth.

“What, I don’t do it for you anymore?” His brother asks, his mouth just inches from his skin, his breaths hitting hot against the shell of his ear, pulling him back.

Herc opens his eyes, and it's not easy. The way Scotty looks at him only reminds him that his mind has never fit quite right into Herc’s own. The two of them having always just been lock and a fitting key, one that doesn’t turn.

He gives him a smirk, and that feels strange too.

“Not really, not unless you start moving your arse.”

Scott grins, “Thought that was your job, Hercules.”

And doesn’t the thought of his brother riding him when he’s done make a pretty thought in his head. With Herc’s cock soft from coming once already, semen still drying on his stomach, Scott could brace a hand over his hip as his thighs shake with exertion when he fucks himself down on Scott’s length.

He moves off of him until his older brother can find his bearings, and tells him what he can give with how he gets on his knees, hands reaching forward for the headboard. It’s a feeling he’s got memorized, tracing a hand down Herc’s spine, gentle and not at all what Herc needs.

His protests come. He doesn’t quite whine but the noise that makes its way out from the confines of his chest is indication enough. This is not what he wants, this is what he needs, and Scott isn’t giving it to him either way.

So he shoves back, and drives the spread of Scott’s fingers deeper inside of him.

If he is kind, Scott would let Herc open himself up on the head of his cock alone, inch by inch until every thrust has the headboard rattling against the wall. But Scott’s brand of cruelty is to have them face to face when he finally pushes in, slow and gentle. A twist of the knife that hurts them both.

Herc doesn’t know what Scott is looking for or whether he finds it at all, but just the fact that Scott apologizes in the next second is enough. With how he moves, his apology is a pace that is hard and deep and just as brutal as he’s always been.

This, it really is more than enough.

Herc has never claimed to be a good person. But in comparison, well, in comparison he could look that way if only because he is standing next to his son and a brother drummed out of the Corps.

Herc draws lines across Scott’s back that turn from white to pink to red then welts. The sigh that escapes from between his lips has nothing to do with how Scott likes to rake his teeth along Herc’s throat and hands that run the planes of his chest.

He doesn’t ask that he hurts him, he wouldn’t ask that of his brother.

But he does ask this of him.

“Come on already,” He says, urging him for more with an arch of his spine and Scott obliges with only the smallest hint of amusement when he tastes the salt on his skin. “Eager much?”

“Just impatient now.” Herc lets out against the pillowcase, feels the hitch of Scott’s grip under his knee slip just a little, his next breath catching in his chest when that only jostles him even deeper inside of him.

Scott doesn’t reach to get him off.

Here, Herc either comes untouched and on Scott's cock alone, or not at all.

He doesn’t follow him when he gets out of the bed for a shower, but he does catch the wet towel Scott tosses to him from where he is standing by the bathroom door.

“Don’t go yet.”

This is not the first time Scott asks this of him. This is not about to be the last time either, that they both know.

“I’m not stayin’ the night.”

“Not asking you to, 'Le.”

Scott doesn’t wait for a reply this time, just turns and disappears behind a door that he doesn’t quite close. It might be an invitation, but Herc doesn't allow himself to read it as one. Instead, Herc doesn’t sit up for a long time, and feels disgusting when he does. Even with the condom, he can still feel the wet slide of lube between his cheeks, smears of it along the small of his back. He wipes himself off as best as he can, flinching when the towel drags against his entrance like Scott’s fingers would.

Just as he doesn’t let the sound of Scott’s nickname for him when they were both younger leave him feeling like he’s been hollowed out, he doesn’t let it bother him that he can still feel Scott across his body even when he hasn’t left a single bruise or bite.

Sitting naked and cross legged at the edge of the bed as he sorts their tangled clothing into two piles, Herc can tell that Scott is surprised when he gets out. With a towel and only a pair of jeans hanging low on his hips, he smells like soap, and nothing like the stink of sex still in the room.

Herc just hands him his shirt, saying, “You asked.”

“I’ve asked before.”

“I’ve had places to go before.”

Scott shakes his head, and the smile reminds Herc of a time between them where it isn’t just guilt and responsibility and a twisted sense of what might have never resembled familial love in the first place.

Herc slips on his clothes, and the two of them are quiet. The only sound is when Herc takes his keys from the bedside table and makes to leave. What Scott’s used to is not this, it is always him running before the sheets are even cold. It is not him asking for anyone to stay, and being content with given even just ten more minutes with the man.

Here, Herc doesn’t turn away when Scott leans in, allowing the kind of kiss his brother’s always wanted from him.

“Take care of yourself.” Scott tells him, pulling his shirt over his head, giving Herc the privacy of reacting to that however he wants.

Before second thoughts can hit, Herc holds him still by the collar of his shirt. The moment of hesitation is not unexpected, and then he is pressing his mouth against Scott’s for a second time.

“I’ll call you, Scotty.”

It's not much, but it's everything he still has to give.

 

XXX Kuro

**Author's Note:**

> The detail of 'Le as a nickname for Herc comes from [SublimeDiscordance](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/) which was such an endearing detail in their Herc/Scott fics I couldn't resist (no seriously, that detail pretty much stuck with me, I had to write something to give it a shoutout). So all the credits go to them! :D
> 
> sequel: [you're blood, and i'm all bled out](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4117015)


End file.
